


lucky (i'm in love with my best friend)

by zadderlee



Category: Free!
Genre: (or for characters who don't have freaky psychic shit going on), Fluff, Friendship/Love, Introspection, M/M, but it's okay because so does haru, haha dialogue is for chumps, hot damn this took a while to sift through, makoto has it bad, seriously i'm not kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zadderlee/pseuds/zadderlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto has always thought that he’s lucky to have Haru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lucky (i'm in love with my best friend)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Of course my first fic for this fandom (or any fandom waheyhey) had to be gratuitous fluff, seeing as all I want is for these stupid gay swimmers to be happy and stupid (and gay) forever and ever. God, I hate this stupid (fantastic) show. 
> 
> I hope you like it, and feedback of any kind is always appreciated :)
> 
> The title is taken from the song 'Lucky' by Jason Mraz ft. Colbie Caillat, which is the song that should play at their wedding, as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> [Edit 07/07/15: After being mildly annoyed by this whenever I thought about it, I decided to make some changes - I hope anyone who liked the original isn't disappointed. The perils of one's first fic amirite]
> 
> ~zadd

Makoto has always thought, from when he was barely tall enough to hug his mother’s waist to now (at 6’0, no less), that he’s lucky to have Haru. Be it as a teammate, a best friend, a pseudo-family member or, well, _whatever_ he thinks could be between them, sometimes, when he catches Haru's gaze lingering. In whatever ways Haru lets him in his life, Makoto knows he's fortunate to just _be_ there.

Not everyone can say they really know Nanase Haruka – that's a privilege very few hold. He is aware that most people think Haru is just odd, that his classmates and peers and complete strangers are all set to judge him for his love for water or his taciturn nature.

They can only see the superficial, are unwilling to see past the façade he presents to the world. Makoto, in his short seventeen years of life, has seen so many people who boil down all the complexities of Haru, peel back every intricate layer and carelessly toss it aside, until all that is left, all that they see him as, is some kind of caricature. Some out-of-proportion mockery of the real thing. 

Even the people who watch him swim, the people who see him in his element, have no idea about the real Haru; people don’t seem to care about the one behind the transfixing movements. Everyone with an opinion of him sees Haru as either a freak or a marvel. And while the latter is true, that’s not _all_ he is _._ He's a teenage boy, after all's said and done: he sleeps too late and has to be bullied into turning in his homework on time and wouldn't eat anything but mackerel if no one intervened. 

People either scorn or sugar-coat him, and it makes Makoto angry in ways he can’t explain; it’s like coming across a stone and not taking the time to see the crystal hidden within, or forgetting that a pearl was once just some grit inside a clam. Most people don’t even realise there _is_ anything underneath Haru's aloof exterior, much less how to crack it. 

Makoto’s often disappointed when people don't give Haru a chance - when they don't get to see amazing he is, as a human being instead of swimmer. But the rest of the time, in a dark, secret place inside him, he’s glad.

He’s glad he's one of the few people who have tried to find fractures in Haru's shell and, as a result, he truly knows Haru, not as an oddity or a prodigy, but as a person. Where others gave up, he kept going, kept  _trying._ There was just something about Haru - something he could see in him from the moment they met, when it was the chubby fingers of a child clinging to the corner of Haru's shirt, that was worth holding onto. Even then he knew that any effort expended to coax him out of his shell, to coax a smile onto his face, was more than worth it. He thinks it was that perseverance, the almost stubbornness with which he refused to be just pushed aside, that caused Haru to let him in, let him closer than anyone else. Haru deals with actions better than words, and all Makoto really needed to do was stay by his side - to move with the ebb and flow of his tides, but not drift away. 

Their closeness, their mutual understanding that neither of them was going _anywhere_ any time soon, allowed Makoto to learn how to decipher Haru's expressions, to know exactly what he's thinking from just a glance in his direction. At the same time Haru was familiarising himself with all of Makoto's tells and tics (Haru can always tell when he's hiding something - it's a little unnerving, actually), Makoto had been granted a wealth of knowledge. Now, because Haru let him know, Makoto can tell apart his irritation from his nervousness by the way his forehead creases; because Haru showed him, he knows his boredom from his contentment by the way his mouth curves. Haru is an open book if only you earn the right to read him.

Another thing that gives others pause is that Haru isn’t generous with his time - or his attention, for that matter. You have to fight tooth and nail to keep Haru at least somewhat interested in what you’re saying, but most just settle on keeping him present for the whole conversation (he'll wander off like an overgrown toddler if he gets bored enough). Makoto swears blind to anyone that will listen that once, one teacher had been literally hopping with rage because Haru wasn’t paying attention and he  _still_ didn't looked away from the window. 

It's a common response to get angry at how quickly Haru can turn to insults just to stop people from talking, or for how guiltlessly he can cut people off and leave them hanging. They think that just because there are times when his attention wavers, there's no point trying to talk to him. _Don’t just give up when he makes it difficult,_ he wants to shout when yet another person huffs and storms off.  _The best things are worth fighting for,_ is what he wants to tell them as they let Haru slip through their fingers. _If what you were saying was more interesting, perhaps he’d listen,_ he thinks sometimes, then feels instantly bad about it.

It’s just another part of Haru: he has a short attention span, and always has somewhere better to be, like the pool or, if the weather is nice enough, the ocean (as long as it's not a fountain or, god forbid, a fish tank, Makoto can cope). Just another thing about him that others fail to understand. 

But maybe he's a bit biased. Because when he's with Makoto? Well, that's a completely different skillet of mackerel. (Makoto laughs under his breath, then promptly scolds himself for being a dork.)

Sure, there are times when Haru isn't really listening to him when he's speaking, when he's just letting Makoto's words wash over him. Makoto's always been a talker: he's always excited about something or worried about someone or has a cute story about Ren and Ran he wants to share. Haru isn't the first to nod and hum whenever Makoto really gets going, to respond in all the right places but still have no idea what he's saying, and he certainly won't be the last. He’s Tachibana Makoto: filler of silences. And with Haru, there are a lot of silences to fill.

The kicker with Haru, though, is that he _stays_. No matter how inane the conversation is, Haru remains a warm presence by side. That, Makoto knows, is more precious than anything. Haru often skips out on things that are too much effort, but he finds that Haru always makes an effort with him, in quiet, small ways. He makes sure to speak up if he notices something is bothering Makoto; he knows exactly what to do to make Makoto smile with minimal effort (sometimes, a well-timed quirk of an eyebrow can be enough to set him off in helpless giggles); and when Makoto's tone shifts to something more contemplative, or worried, or scared, Haru always snaps to attention, stopping a potential incident before it even starts (often with just a simple, firm _it's okay, Makoto_ ). It's things like that which make him certain that whenever he has something important to say, Haru will be listening.

And that knowledge, that unshakable faith that grounds their relationship, lets him does something that he only does with Haru: he stops talking for a while, instead just basking in how comfortable the silence is. Sometimes, it feels like they don’t need to talk at all, because what they have is beyond words.

 _Yes_ , Makoto thinks, _I’m very lucky indeed_.

\---

Makoto is wearing his introspective face again, and Haru rolls his eyes at him. _Come out of there, or at least let me in there with you_ , he wants to say. Instead, Haru simply grabs his hand and, before he can talk himself out of it, laces their fingers together.

Makoto’s neck cracks with how quickly he turns to stare at Haru, an awed expression on his face. _That snapped him out of it,_ Haru thinks. Makoto’s eyes, a rich peridot green that does funny things to his insides, say far more than his mouth ever could ( _which_ , Haru thinks, and smirks to himself, _is quite the accomplishment_ ). He can see everything Makoto’s thinking in those eyes, as easily as if he were saying his thoughts aloud. Haru looks away, letting the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.

“You have it backwards, idiot. I’m lucky to have _you_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Spell check tried to change "Haru's" to "harrumphs" and I cried because it's such a Haru thing oh my God


End file.
